


Casablanca

by Fabrisse



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long period of deliberation, Harold is still dithering about whether or not to start a deeper relationship with John.  John isn't dithering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casablanca

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristories](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kristories).



> Harold realizes, rather belatedly, that he has a partner, a dog and a baby, the only thing he's missing seems to be the white picket fence...and the sex
> 
> Kinks: Happily ever after, topping from the bottom, ~~accidentally married~~

“Finch?” John Reese tried to get his partner’s attention. “Finch?” When the other man still hadn’t looked up, he said, “Harold?”

“My apologies, Mist…, er, John, I was thinking.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“No doubt you’re wondering if we have a new number. Fortunately, we don’t. In fact, if the pattern holds, we should have only one or two a week between now and, let’s say, Martin Luther King weekend.”

John quirked a smile. “I thought the holidays would be a big uptick, though, now that I think about it they haven’t been the last two years.”

“Indeed. There’s a dip between Veteran’s Day and the aforementioned Martin Luther King Day, then a slow rise overall, though there’s usually a brief busy patch right around Valentine’s day, and then a six week spike beginning in April. It seems Eliot had it right. April really is ‘the cruelest month’.”

“I’m not sure that makes sense.”

Harold nodded. “While we think of the holidays as stressful, most people look forward to their holiday plans. It’s not just the gifts, but the lights, the energy of the season seem to permeate, well, up until the bills start to come in.”

“Right around Martin Luther King weekend.”

“Exactly, Mister Reese.”

John said, “But why the uptick in April?”

“There are various theories, Mister Reese, but the most likely is that the people with Seasonal Affective Disorder finally have enough energy to solve their problems, whether by killing themselves or taking the life of another.” Harold cocked his head and added, “Though to be fair, many of them also start applying for new jobs or moving to new cities or end difficult relationships in a less… definitive manner.” There was a small quirk to his mouth that might be a smile.

“So, if it’s not a new number, what had you so lost in thought, Harold?”

To John’s surprise, Finch straightened and, if he wasn’t mistaken, blushed.

“Nothing which need concern you, John. Take the day to do as you like. I can always call if a number comes in.”

John contemplated the man in front of him and decided not to press. “I have a little shopping to do before Christmas,” he said. “See you later, Finch.”

“Of course, Mister Reese.”

***  
Three hours later, Harold took Bear on his long afternoon walk. The route was three miles, and included stops for both of them. Harold got to have a late lunch at the Oyster Bar in Grand Central Terminal, and Bear had a chance to stop in three parks, including the free dog run in Madison Square Park. The day was cold, but neither rainy nor snowy, and Harold reflected that opportunities like this one would probably be infrequent between now and spring.

He glanced at phone banks as he passed them, but none had the temerity to ring. He found that it disappointed him. While Harold didn’t begrudge, John -- Mister Reese, he really shouldn’t be setting an example of informality -- his day off, he found himself melancholy when he wasn’t around, even if all he was doing was cleaning his guns or restocking the library’s first aid station. They were truly developing a friendship, a relationship that went beyond employer and subordinate. 

He let Bear loose in one of the few public dog runs in Manhattan and sat quietly where he could watch the dog make friends. There was a small bank of public phones in earshot, and he glanced up at a discreet public camera. He didn’t know if he was warning the Machine not to call or begging for an excuse to have John return to the library.

While Bear played with the Persian deerhound that seemed to have become his new best friend, Harold laid out the logic problem. He and John were partners in their work with the Machine, something which could never have been said about Mister Dillinger. He felt like this partnership had developed into a friendship, and, if he were completely honest with himself, the relationship felt deeper than any friendship he’d had since his early days with Nathan at MIT.

Bear came bouncing back to him, his new friend not far behind him. Harold stroked the dog’s ears and said, “Ja, spelen. Brave, hond.” Bear gave him a nod and ran off again.

Contemplating his feelings for John seemed to be leading him into self-deception, a practice he abhorred. To be ruthlessly honest with himself, not only did the friendship feel deeper, it had more than a faint tinge of the romantic happiness he’d felt in his earliest days with Grace. Those feelings of warmth and contentment had included a deep passion which, when sated, had ignited into an even deeper love. 

He doubted anyone who’d been to college in the 1970s, especially one as socially liberal as M.I.T., had finished his degree program without at least one homosexual experience, and Harold had, very quietly, managed to have several very satisfying ones. His public relationships were always with women, and, until meeting John, none of his same sex relationships had induced the same emotional attachment as even his most fleeting heterosexual relationships. He supposed that could be due to the expectations of his partners. With both of them going into an encounter expecting purely physical enjoyment, the deeper connections possible between two people were discouraged before they could take root.

So, he had the potential to fall in love with his male partner. They already shared a dog and common friends. They’d even managed to sleep in the same bed without awkwardness on one of their more bizarre numbers. The next question was whether John was likely to reciprocate.

The more plausible answer was, sadly, no. 

Bear and his new friend once again came over, this time being chased by the saluki’s owner. She was an aristocratic woman in her late thirties at a guess. Their polite conversation lasted a little longer than Harold expected. It took him a moment to realize Mrs. Nelson was flirting with him. He’d certainly never been that slow to pick up on interest at MIT, or any time before the Machine subsumed the other parts of his life. He took his leave of her politely and put Bear back on his leash to finish the other half of their walk.

They walked a little more slowly, now that Bear had worked off his excess energy, and Harold felt like he had time to think some more. He worried about harming the work where John was concerned, but in some ways, not grasping a chance for happiness seemed like a waste. The Machine and the numbers circumscribed their lives quite closely.

In the positive column, he didn’t think John would be shocked or offended. And as difficult as it was to remember, the fact that Harold had lived with rejection before was also on the plus side of the ledger. On the negative side, while he was confident any awkwardness could be overcome, there was a chance, a strong one, that even a gentle rebuff could affect their work -- on both sides -- before they found their footing.

“The problem is,” Harold said to Bear, as he fed and watered him, “neither of us is prepared to lose a number over an issue in our personal relationship.” Bear sat back on his haunches and stared at Harold who got the distinct impression the dog was judging him. “It’s not like you and your new friend Nahid,” he said. “You’ll only see each other once or twice a week for an hour or two. John and I spend long hours and longer days in each other’s company. He’s only ever mentioned women for romance or even just brief sexual flings. So, you see, even though we share custody of you, and he seems to have adopted the Machine, it’s unlikely we’ll ever share a cottage with a white picket fence -- or even a brownstone on the Upper East Side.”

“Who’re you talking to, Finch?”  
Harold startled and felt his old injuries begin to ache at the sudden movement.

“I’m sorry. I thought you heard me coming.”

“No, Mister Reese, I did not, but I admit I wasn’t listening for you. I thought I made it plain you could have the rest of the day off.”

“Yeah, you did. But once I’d gotten my holiday shopping done, I realized that I needed to eat and thought maybe you’d join me.”

Harold hesitated and John said, “It was just a thought.”

“And a good one. I had a late lunch while I was walking Bear, so it couldn’t be right away. Or it would need to be somewhere light.”

“Dim Sum at Nom Wah? My treat.”

Harold cocked his head and looked at him closely.

“Yes, Harold, I’m asking you out on a date.”

“I don’t find that joke particularly amusing.”

John stepped closer to him, and Harold could see the effort he made not to loom even though their respective heights made it impossible. 

“It’s not a joke Harold.”

“I’ll believe that when you kiss me goodnight.” Harold did his best to sound dismissive.

John cupped his chin and turned it up before placing a very gentle kiss on his lips. “It’s not a joke, Harold.”

“Are you completely aware of what you’re offering?”

“Yes, Finch.” John sounded a bit exasperated, but still amused. “I admit, I’ve never really been tempted before, not by a man, but I’ve been thinking about what it might be like with you.”

He didn’t need to wait for an answer. Harold slid a hand behind John’s neck, and pulled him back down for a much more thorough kiss. 

When they parted, John looked a little stunned. “If I’d known you could kiss like that, we’d have had this conversation in July.”

Harold took John’s hand and kissed the palm. “July, John?”

There was a low moan from John who said, “Yes. That’s when I noticed, well, you. I mean other than as a friend.”

They kissed again. 

After a long moment, of just staring at each other and sharing breath, Harold said, “It’s time you see where I live, John. We can order in Chinese, for later.”

“That sounds…” his mouth was stopped by another kiss and a look of mischief on Harold’s face. 

“Don’t believe for an instant that I’ll let you leave, afterward, either. I appreciate it when my partners stay the night.” He let the words hang in the air for a moment. “I’d like it even more, if you, partner, would stay for life.”

“I’m not sure…”

Harold said, “You will be, John. I promise you that.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is because, like Rick and Louis at the end of the movie, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


End file.
